Page 19 of Gunslinger Girl

Something out of sight caught the Old Reds’ attention. They traded a look of manic desire and jumped from the vehicle, bolting away like wolves after prey. Pity’s stomach clenched, the cold fear returning. Before her, the bloody smile ran in rivulets down the glass. Is this a city, she thought, or an asylum?

“Should have left her in back,” said Olivia. “Look—her mind is going to break into pieces before we even make it to Cas.”

Pity stiffened. “No, it’s not.”

“You’d better keep your wits—it doesn’t get any easier than this.”

“I’m fine.” She stared straight ahead, her jaw set. “Who’s Cas?”

Max pointed. “Not who, where. It’s home.”

Ahead of them the structures ceased, creating a circular perimeter around a large, open area. At the center stood a bone-white building flooded in light, dwarfing everything around it. The road they were following split and circled around a massive marble fountain before joining again at the building’s entrance. Above that, written in lights that blinked and chased one another into infinity, was a single word.

CASIMIR.

Despite her unease, Pity felt a twinge of disappointment when Olivia steered them off the main road and onto a plainer, narrower avenue. It snaked around the side of the building, where they turned onto a ramp that descended into a concrete tunnel. The open air and bright lights disappeared, replaced by sour yellow incandescence and vague claustrophobia. Finally, they entered a sprawling garage. The mobile command pulled off to one side and ground to a stop.

“Let’s move.” Olivia shoved the cab door open and leapt out, Max on her heels.

Pity was descending with more caution when a skinny, dun-haired man in oil-stained coveralls appeared.

“Baby! You’re back!” he cried.

Pity glanced at Olivia.

“Oh, no, he is not talking to me. Relax, Widmer, we brought her home safe and sound.”

“You damn well better have!” He ignored Pity completely, hands running over the mobile command’s treads and exterior armor. “Why is there blood on the windshield?”

“It’ll wash off, Wid.” Santino sauntered up from the back of the vehicle. In one hand he carried Pity’s gun belt. Her heart jumped, but he tossed it to Olivia, who strapped it around her waist. “Call the porters. Big crate in the back. We’re heading upstairs.”

Widmer dipped his head. “You got it.”

Pity trailed behind as they crossed the garage, the click of their steps echoing through its vast expanse. At the back wall was a set of elevators. It was a short ride—smooth and silent, nothing like the silo elevators on the commune.

The doors opened into a crescent-shaped room, all fresh cream and silver trimming. To Pity’s left was a line of glass doors, through which she spotted the fountain. Enraptured by Casimir’s entrance, she stumbled as she stepped from the elevator and sank into lush carpet. She stared at her boots, simultaneously embarrassed that they were filthy and filled with the urge to pull them off and go barefoot. She had never walked across anything so sumptuous.

Opposite the entrance was a throng of people, crowded before a set of gilded doors.

“Excuse me.” Santino’s huge form parted the press of chattering bodies with ease. Pity kept her nose practically planted in Olivia’s back as they moved forward.

“Hey,” said Max. “From here on, stick close to me, okay?”

She glanced back at him. He looked almost normal, his blue spikes and silver rings dull compared to the garishness that surrounded them. “Why?”

“Because right now you’re a stranger. But you’re less of a stranger so long as you’re with us. Understand?”

“I… Yes.”

They broke free from the pack. Before the gilded doors stood half a dozen men in gray uniforms with rifles and shock sticks, and eyes as hard as diamonds. Two silver stars were pinned to their collars.

“Tin Men,” Max whispered. “Casimir’s security force.”

“I do not accept this!” A shrill man in an absurd grass-hued suit squared off against the guards. “I came all the way to this dusty shit hole, and if I want in, I’m getting in!”

“Sir,” said a bald man the size of a bear, his tone unyielding, “step away.”

“The hell I will!” Green Suit poked the behemoth in the chest. “I want to talk to your boss.”